how i learned to stop worrying and love the band
by the hikikomori life
Summary: James is the front man for the as-yet unknown band The Marauders; Sirius plays guitar. Hijinks ensue!
1. Chapter 1

**And Supernatural Bollocks Galore!**

or, **How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Band**

_For Trisha._

_-_

"Need a pick?"

"Yeah," said Remus, twanging a thick bass-string. The amp he was seated on rumbled appreciatively. "My thumb's a bit sore." Something small and hard bounced off the back of the head; he bent over, swept it off the gritty concrete floor, curling his fingers round the nub of plastic with a mumbled word of thanks.

"Calluses," said Sirius, matter-of-factly. "Said you'd need them."

Remus peered at his fingertips, as though if he looked hard enough, calluses would bubble to the skin surface, kraken-esque. But it was dark in James's garage and raining outside, so he couldn't make out much besides the fact that he _had_ fingers- roughly five of them, give or take a few.

Sprawled across from Remus on a ratty armchair was James, complacently stoned. There was already a round dark burn mark on the armrest from how he tapped the end of his cig there when he was thinking, and it was getting darker still as he fidgeted with it.

Nursing a troubled expression, he looked across at them for a while (but mostly at Sirius), like he was sizing them up. Smoke curled up around his face, skirting cheekbones and hooded eyes. Finally, a random neurone fired somewhere in his brain, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"You know what we have to do?"

Sirius glanced up from tuning his beloved guitar - it had craptastic action but for twenty-five quid you couldn't really complain. "What now, Potter?" he grinned. "Because if this'll be like the time you got right properly pissed and suggested we all charge down the street starkers, then..." He turned his amplifier on with a deft flick of the hand, and started twiddling the volume knobs.

"Nah, not like that," James said hastily, flicking ash at Remus, who was failing to choke down a traitorous laugh. "Just that- we need to get laid, you see."

"Drunk," Peter corrected him, after a moment's thought. "We need to get drunk. _You_ need to get laid because you swore off birds last week when Evans told you she'd taken a vow of celibacy-"

"- Rub salt in my wounds, why don't you?" James said, sighing in such a way as to let them all know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "But _don't_ tell me you're all regularly getting some, you lot all put together are not half as good looking as my handsome self." He took a puff; wheeze-coughed, faintly. Rain rattled the garage roof and window-panes, dripping dismally through cracks in the ceiling, and the cig in his hand hissed as a fat raindrop hit its smoking end.

"I could have Evans if I wanted," added Sirius. "You just spend half your time flailing about and the other half rowing with her. And put out that fucking fag will ya- you need your voice for tomorrow."

"Don't be a girl, Black."

"Remus, hit him."

"Can't have you coughing and hacking your way through our next gig, ruin your chances with Evans," Remus tried, diplomatically. He didn't think it'd do to have them in a snit with each other again; last time they near came to blows onstage, which had put a _bit_ of a damper on the performance. They'd just been having a bit of fun, but the bouncers didn't find it quite as amusing as they did.

This gave Peter pause for consideration. While thinking, he absent-mindedly tapped out a drum riff on the side of the armchair - almost, but not quite, in sync with Sirius's spastic stomping on his distortion pedal.

"... Remus is right, y'know," he said finally, looking up from beating the stuffing out of the chair. "We _need_ this gig. Won't get it if they think you'll break out in giggles halfway and take a swing at Sirius again."

"Was funny though, wasn't it?"

James stared hopefully from one reproachful look to another, and at Sirius, who seemed somewhat distracted. (His amp was crackling and hissing in a most discouraging manner.) In melodramatic despair, he tossed his hands up, and nearly dropped his cig into Peter's lap. "All right. All right! I see how it is. Won't smoke. Can't I even drink though?"

"Not after what happened last time," replied Sirius serenely, leaning back over the amplifier with a long-suffering look. "D'you know, I still wake up sometimes in a cold sweat, dreaming about what you did?"

"So I spilled beer in your amp. What's all the fuss? It was only about half a pint!" Silence, broken sparsely by Peter's enthusiastic practising. "... Come on Remus, not you too?"

"Sorry, James," Remus told him gently. "An amp is an amp."

James gaped at him open-mouthed for a few moments, and then remembered to shut it because he is not a codfish. "Fine. Fine. All right then. All right-" He swung his feet off the armchair onto the dusty concrete, and made his way over to a window, throwing it open to the torrential rain. With a little flick of his hand, the cigarette was lost from sight. "There. See? 'Sgone. Are you going to take my bollocks now too, or is it enough just depriving me of all my _other_ worldly comforts?"

"Have a drink down the pub later," said Peter comfortingly, rising from his seat on the floor. James shot him a dirty look, diving back into the armchair before Peter could usurp his place.

"Anyway it's _my_ garage," he said sullenly, putting his feet up on the bass amp, against Remus's back. Remus thrust a bony elbow back in silent protest, but said nothing; it wasn't worth winding him up again over something small and wasting more time. The string slaps the body of his bass guitar with a satisfying '_thwock_' every time he pulled at it, and Sirius gave him a questioning glance, having finally coaxed his amp back to life.

"We going to get around to practising, or just going to fuck about the rest of the day?"

"I'm ready," muttered Remus, lurching to his feet in an ungainly manner. He'd yet to get used to holding it up with the strap; it felt as though his arm was going to snap right off. Sirius smirked at him, and he flipped Sirius the bird and looked away.

"All right lads," said James, after Peter had hauled him back to his feet. He grabbed at the microphone stand and crooned into it, wildly off-key, "Let's do this."

(It occurred to Remus that there was nothing else he'd rather be doing than this: crumbling under the weight of a bass guitar, listening to the rain and wind and James's "singing"; Peter's unsteady drum rolls; Sirius's curses as his amp fizzles in and out of consciousness punctuating his heady guitar licks. He imagined being at home alone, doing crossword puzzles, and was suddenly exceedingly glad he has friends.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two.**

-

"REMUS JOHN LUPIN!"

Remus jerked awake and fell out of bed with a yelp. He'd been taking a nap, having given up on Austen shortly before dozing off. What time was it? Rubbing the back of his aching head, he sat up, and called back, somewhat half-heartedly, "Whaaat?"

Voices floated upstairs, indistinct. He frowned, trying to make out what they were saying. One was definitely his mother. The other...

"...just head on upstairs," his mum was saying, "you know which one it is, first door on the left."

"Thanks, Mrs. Lupin, you're a real dear. And looking absolutely _lovely_ today, might I add."

Remus paused, horrified. That was, without a doubt, Sirius Black, and was he actually trying to charm Remus's_mum_? She was more than twice his age! And married! And - and _Remus's mum_! But then, slowly, dangerously, another thought struck him, a thought which was ten times more galling than Sirius making a pass at his mum.

That thought was, _Sirius Black is coming upstairs. __Into my room._

Panicking, Remus threw himself back onto his bed, trying to smooth back his mussed hair, adjust his crumpled shirt, and rub the sleep out of his eyes all at once. But too late, far too late, he realised nothing could be done about what his mum affectionately referred to as his "Remus goes to the zoo" bedsheets.

The door creaked opened, and Sirius strolled in with a casual grin and his shirt half untucked, looking right at home.

"Hallo Remus," he said, cheerfully. "I see you've roused yourself to welcome me."

Remus went a bit pink, but met him stare for stare. "Hello," he said. "What are you doing here, Sirius? Shouldn't you be with-" damn, what was the fellow's name, you know him, one of your best mates, singer in the band?- "with James?"

Sirius flung himself onto the bed next to Remus, then rolled over, carelessly invading Remus's personal space without so much as a 'how-do-you-do'. "He's off on a 'date'," he said mockingly, drawing the inverted commas in the air with his fingers.

"Ah," said Remus, and grinned. "Then oughtn't you have your mobile ready, for when he rings you from the hospital?"

"Nah," said Sirius, letting his hands drop. "Peter's on comfort duty today. His turn after that- well, you ought to remember- the trouser-fiasco?"

"Ah," said Remus again, wincing at the mere thought of James and, well, his trousers. "Yeah... I do. Wish I could forget." He stared down at his lap, trying to will the flashbacks away.

Apparently fascinated by the behaviour of this particular specimen of Lupin, Sirius leaned in closer to peer at him. Remus cleared his throat and shifted around awkwardly, but to no avail; hints tended to bounce pointlessly off Sirius as though he were made of rubber.

"...What were you up to before I got here?" asked Sirius, his head cocked quizzically to one side.

"I was – er -" Not wanting to admit to Sirius that he'd dozed off while reading in case he never heard the end of it, Remus hastily scooped the boring novel off his bedside table and presented it to Sirius. "-reading. Yes, I was reading this. In fact, I am going to go back to reading it. Yes?"

"All right," said Sirius, a little unnerved by how Remus was acting like the instructions beamed to his brain from the mothership were breaking up. He sat to one side, watching as Remus settled back into the pillows, snapped the book open and began to read studiously, and in complete silence.

Bored, Sirius drummed his fingers on the bedspread. He looked up at the ceiling, at the amusing Noddy wallpaper. At the same bedsheets Remus had been using since he was ten. He whistled- gratingly, some tune gleaned from popular music that Remus didn't recognise but made him twitch nonetheless. He snapped his fingers arrhythmically, clearly trying to drive Remus insane. He bounced on the spot for a while, making the bedsprings squeak in protest.

And then, finally- "_Reeeee_mus."

Remus gave a sigh of defeat, looking over the top of his book, which was already half-shut. He'd done nothing but read the same sentence over and over again anyway, thanks to Sirius's keen powers of annoyance.

"What?"

"I'm bored," announced Sirius, as though acknowledging it would make it cease to be true. "Where's your bass?"

"Left it at James's," said Remus slowly, as though speaking to a particularly dull child. "Remember? It was raining?"

Remembering looked like it put a bit of a strain on Sirius, but he managed.

"Ah, right," he said slowly. "With my stuff."

"Yes." Trust Sirius to remember where his beloved guitar was, at least. And his rubbishy yet equally beloved amplifier. Sighing again for a reason that he could not easily articulate, Remus picked fretfully at a fraying thread on the end of his sleeve.

Apparently offended by this moody behaviour, Sirius sat very still for a moment, and then, all at once, he threw himself forward, nearly knocking Remus off the bed.

"Let's go outside!"

"What?" sputtered Remus, hauling himself upright. "Whatever for?" He'd seen that gleam in Sirius's eye before, and he didn't like it. It usually meant he'd have to do something painful, embarrassing, or painfully embarrassing. Whatever it was, Remus wanted no part in it. He held up his hands, hoping his body language would make this clear, but instead got a faceful of his jacket, which had previously been draped over a chair. Christ, Sirius could move fast when he wanted to.

"Come on, Lupin, don't be so wet! Fresh air'll do you good. I won't stand for you just laying about all day reading more of those _things_."

"They're books," said Remus drily, "and I lead an active and healthy life, thank you very much ." But, figuring it was probably safer to just humour Sirius, he shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders. "Where are we going?"

"Just outside." He paused. "You _have _been there, haven't you?"

Remus gave him a good-natured shove. "I meant _where _outside. If you're hungry you could just stay for dinner, we don't have to..."

"Nonsense!" cried Sirius, who was already shooing him out the door.

Feet obediently moving as directed, Remus didn't even try to stifle his third sigh of the afternoon. "Honestly, Sirius, one day someone will try to tell you something important, and you will just talk over them loudly until they give up and go away."

Sirius just gave him a grin.


End file.
